


I Got You

by babykid528, thatmysticbafflingwonder (babykid528)



Series: Whamilton Law School AU [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Law School, M/M, Massage, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Older Man/Younger Man, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/pseuds/babykid528, https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/pseuds/thatmysticbafflingwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“How did your meeting go?”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>George looks up from his computer screen at the sound of Alex’s voice. He’s standing, leaning actually, against the doorframe to his office, hands curled around the strap of his messenger bag where it crosses his chest, mouth quirked downward at the corners a little, brow knit with concern. George is struck, not for the first time, by how alarmingly expressive he can be.</i></p><p>  <i>He heaves a sigh and rubs his hand across his mouth before replying, “Not terribly.”</i><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	I Got You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [secretly_a_savior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretly_a_savior/gifts).



> secretly_a_savior prompted Alex comforting George, so this happened. <3

“How did your meeting go?”

George looks up from his computer screen at the sound of Alex’s voice. He’s standing, _leaning_ actually, against the doorframe to his office, hands curled around the strap of his messenger bag where it crosses his chest, mouth quirked downward at the corners a little, brow knit with concern. George is struck, not for the first time, by how alarmingly expressive he can be.

He heaves a sigh and rubs his hand across his mouth before replying, “Not terribly.”

Alex’s mouth quirks upward a little at that, just for a fraction of a second, before he steps into the room. “Well, it went better than you expected, then.”

A laugh bubbles up out of George’s chest, loud and unstoppable. Alex closes the door to the office behind him as he enters it further, to keep that laugh from carrying too far. George winces as the laugh dies, reaching for his temple before he can think the better of it.

“Headache?” Alex asks.

George wants to deny it. He wants to pretend he’s fine, that everything is fine, that he didn’t just spend the most frustrating three hours of his life arguing with Jefferson and Madison and Lee, with only Dandridge in his corner, that this whole day, and everything leading up to it, hasn’t been one giant _drain_ on his life for over a week. But, in the aftermath, he’s unable to stop his composure from wavering.

“Yeah,” he admits. It’s a struggle to get that word out and not just because his head is starting to pound.

Alex drops his bag into one of the chairs opposite George’s desk before stepping around the desk and getting close to George. They don’t do this here, they don’t get closer than they should inside of the school. It’s an important rule, for the both of them, but Alex looks even more concerned than he did before and George can’t stop wincing now, so he’s not going to really point that fact out. Truth be told, he wants Alex close – closer, even, than he currently is – and he’s not in a mood to wait until they leave this place for that to happen.

Alex hovers by his shoulder though, hesitant, and it’s not until George gives his permission, with a short nod and a forced, “Okay,” that he closes the last bit of distance between them.

He reaches for George’s face, and George closes his eyes before Alex’s fingers are pressed and splayed across his cheeks, sliding to hook over the edges of his jaw, palms pressing flat to George’s too hot skin. Alex’s skin is almost always cooler than his own, a fact that has always struck George as ironic, considering Alex’s temper tends to run so much hotter.

George heaves out a sigh and Alex runs one of his hands up to smooth his brow, fingers somehow firm and gentle all at once, as they wipe away the weeks’ worries. His hand still on his cheek slides back to cradle his head more securely, and his fingers press a little into the nape of his neck, making George groan.

“Shh,” Alex shushes him, voice uncharacteristically soft. It startles George’s eyes open again, just as Alex moves his hand from his brow, to his temple, and begins to massage.

Alex is a beacon of concentration – his eyes are laser focused, brow knit together as he works to soothe George’s pains. It’s captivating to see, completely arresting, and George barely manages to keep his hands from reaching out to take control of the situation at the sight of it. Just barely. This is Alex’s show, Alex’s moment of control. He will acquiesce and let his boy do this for him. Lord knows, it’s really what they both need right now.

“Do you have any Advil or anything?” Alex asks, voice still so soft, despite the octave it seems to have dropped since he entered the room.

“Yeah,” George replies, “Top right drawer.”

Alex steps back, removing his hands from George’s face, in order to access the drawer behind him. He shakes out two pills, grabs the bottle of water off George’s desk, and hands them both to George. George takes them swiftly and watches Alex nod as he drinks the remainder of the bottle. He’s rewarded for his compliance by Alex stepping behind his chair and placing his hands on George’s shoulders and kneading. George has to bite down on his lower lip to keep from groaning at the pressure. Alex leans down and kisses the top of his head, lips spread into a satisfied little smile.

“Look who’s being good now,” he whispers and George’s breathing stutters.

Alex continues to work his shoulder and neck muscles until some of the knots loosen under his fingers. Every so often he drops another kiss to George’s head and he whispers another soft shushing sound or point of praise. Some indeterminate time later, when George’s eyes have drifted shut again, and Alex gives his shoulders one last squeeze, he clears his throat. George opens his eyes and follows Alex with his gaze as he steps out from behind him and rests his hip against the edge of George’s desk.

“How does your head feel?” he asks.

George takes a deep breath, filling his lungs, expanding his chest, and then releases it all on a deep sigh. “A lot better. Thank you.”

Alex drops his chin to his chest, cheeks tinged a little pink at the gratitude, and George can’t wait to get him home so he can properly thank him.

“We should head on out then,” Alex says, lifting his head again. “I’ve got dinner waiting for us.”

“You’ve already been home,” George says. It comes out as a statement, not a question, but Alex nods anyway, cheeks growing a darker shade of pink.

“I finished classes and I’m ahead in the reading for once, so I didn’t need to stay around the library this afternoon,” he explains.

“But you came back here,” George says. “For me?”

Alex nods slowly, eyes bright and shining with feelings he won’t dare put into words. Not in this office, anyway. George reaches out, takes his hand and squeezes it gently. He pulls him closer. Close enough that he can press that palm to his lips and give it a lingering kiss, all the while keeping his eyes on Alex’s, hopefully conveying his own feelings appropriately without words. He must be successful because Alex nods, breath coming quicker, and he flexes his fingers against George’s cheek.

“Let’s head home, then,” George says when he let’s Alex reclaim his hand. He promises himself, as he watches his boy gather his bag, that he’ll declare every word he’s held back this afternoon into Alex’s skin as soon as they finish dinner. And he'll do it again when they wake up in the morning.


End file.
